


presque vu

by kingtatsunari



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking to Cope, Implied Sexual Content, Lack of Communication, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Partners to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:04:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingtatsunari/pseuds/kingtatsunari
Summary: Please, to any god that's up there. I can’t fall in love,Hank begs.Not again.Or: Hank struggles to tell Connor that he's in love with him.





	1. i can't say it

**Author's Note:**

> i was super inspired to write hankcon because of [dreamweaver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174951) and [play it close to the heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14985095)!!! check both of these fics out, they are Amazing!!!!

The sizzling of bacon is calling to Hank’s aching muscles, of which are also pleading to remain sunken into the bed sheets. He pushes his nose into the pillow as his stomach grumbles in a rebellious cry for food. 

“Hank! Wake up, breakfast is ready!” 

A series of light knocks arrives at his bedroom door. 

With a slight grumble, Hank pulls himself up and grasps at the nearest articles of clothing before heading out to the kitchen. Connor is there by the stove, stirring some eggs in a pan. The determined expression on his face makes Hank smile fondly. 

They have breakfast, sitting side-by-side at Hank’s dining table. Their elbows knock together, the knowledge of each other’s presence enough to account for the familiar silence. A few months ago, if you had asked Hank about breakfast, he would have doubled over in laughter. However, ever since Connor had moved in, the android had insisted that they sit down for three square meals. He appreciated the sentiment, even if it was a little awkward to eat whilst Connor could only sit beside him with a cup of thirium.

The previous night had been strenuous. A couple of weeks ago, Fowler, wearing his usual scowl, had thrown them a thick folder, its taped seams threatening to burst. Its contents revealed an old cold case. “I’m giving you a challenge, because I think you can handle it. Don’t prove me wrong.” 

And so, they had been caught in a stakeout until the sun had broken through the horizon. It had been Connor, dazzling, brilliant Connor, who had finally tackled the suspect and freed Hank from the torturous wait. 

Hank rubs at the bags under his eyes. He is visibly tired, but Connor looks impeccable as always. Still, Hank can see that his movements are a little jerky, and not as sharply executed as they usually are. Living with the android allowed him to notice minor details like that. 

“Do you want to take Sumo out for his walk today?” Connor asks, folding his hands neatly on the table. 

“Yeah. Actually, I want you to come with me. We need to talk.” Hank awkwardly coughs, fork hovering above his steaming plate as he waits for Connor’s reply. 

“Sure. You might have to put your breakfast to the side, though. I think Sumo’s getting a little impatient with us.”

As if on cue, Sumo bounds up to them with his leash clutched in his jaws. Hank shoves one last forkful of egg into his mouth as he watches Connor rub Sumo’s ears. He pushes his chair back and starts for the door, wearing a mournful smile. Connor and Sumo follow after him. 

It’s a brisk morning, and from the way the clouds are gathering, Hank can guess that they’re about to receive some snow. The grass beneath Sumo’s feet is crunchy, and the jingle of his leash is the loudest sound in the world. 

They walk, feet taking them through their familiar route to the park. Connor holds the leash, as he usually does, while Hank simply breathes and soaks in the comforting morning atmosphere. It’s nice to be able to observe the neighborhood he’s lived in for years and see something new. Today, he notices a little squirrel scampering up a tree trunk, a nest hidden away in a neighboring tree, and tiny flowers poking their stems up from the frosty ground, swaying in the light breeze. 

It doesn’t take long until they reach the park, Connor leaning down to unclip Sumo’s leash. He immediately bounds off, tail wagging, feet taking him directly towards the children clambering over the jungle gym. Smiles lift the corners of both Hank and Connor’s mouths, and they allow the moment to linger for a minute until the android breaks the ice. 

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

Hank feels the pit in his stomach, which had formed when he had asked Connor to join him on the walk, gape into an unforgiving dark mass. He brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, and leans back against a nearby tree. “Ah... I just wanted to ask if you had any plans. You know, for the future.”

A crease appears between Connor’s eyebrows, though he remains stiffly upright. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t expect you to stay here with me. You androids have your freedom now, and you can do whatever you want. Isn’t there anything else that interests you, other than staying with me and working with the DPD?”

Hank can’t meet Connor’s gaze; he refuses to see Connor’s eyes melt into realization and agreement. He’d rather keel over and die. 

“Lieutenant, what would make you think I want to be anywhere but here?”

The breath Hank had taken to steady his heart rate is suddenly wrenched away, causing him to cough. Connor quickly brings a hand up to Hank’s back, but Hank holds up a hand, leaning away from the android. “I’m fine,” Hank gasps, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Shit, what a moment to really fuck up.

Eventually, his breathing evens out, and they’re back to where they started, gazing at Sumo romping around in the grass. The tension hasn’t disappeared; it’s still lingering at the edges of Hank’s vision, draggings its fingers across his neck, whispering in his ear. He can’t stand it anymore. “You’re really happy?”

From the corner of his eye, Hank can see Connor angle his head to the right, his expression remaining a mystery. “Remember when I told you, ‘I’m whatever you want to be?’ I haven’t changed.”

Finally, Hank turns to look at Connor. His face is steely, unbetrayed by emotion. Not for the first time, Hank envies Connor’s existence as an android. 

“Let’s head back. Sumo should rehydrate to maintain optimal water levels.” Connor unclasps his hands from where he’s been holding them behind his back, and places two fingers in his mouth to whistle for the dog. Hank avoids glancing at him. 

It isn’t until they arrive back home that he realizes Connor hadn’t really answered his question. 

Hank heads straight for the couch, as he usually does after their morning walks. He’s not as young as he once was, and the arduous routine of waking up early to exercise hasn’t been the easiest for him. Connor, on the other hand, is crouching down to run his hands over an eager Sumo’s fur. Hank watches as the android carefully fills the dog’s water bowl and carries it over to the empty matching food bowl. Sumo slams his head into the water. 

Hank looks away just as he realizes that Connor is turning around to face him. He chooses instead to focus on the blank TV, his own flushed face staring back at him. 

Without a word, Connor heads over to the couch and settles in, his LED spinning yellow for a quick second. The TV lights up, stereos blasting the intro to the _Terminator_. 

They watch in silence for thirty minutes, the sounds of gunfire and explosions taking the place of unspoken words. Hank is intensely aware of the placement of his hands, but more specifically, the one that is placed on the cushion separating him from Connor. Connor’s hand is a mere few inches away from his. He could just reach over and grab it, cheeks possessing a blush, eyes resolutely glued to the TV...

But he won’t, because it’s not what Connor wants. He knows the android; when he wants something, he will make every effort to acquire it.

And then he realizes that the pale hand near his is inching closer and closer, until their pinkies are just barely brushing. So Hank does what any reasonable person would do and wraps his hand around Connor’s. He refuses to look away from the television. 

Slowly, he brushes a thumb gently across Connor’s knuckles. From the corner of his eye, he sees a slight shiver burn its way up Connor’s spine. The reaction makes Hank feel bold, and he starts to trace patterns across Connor’s palm. 

Then he feels a cool palm cup his cheek, and his chest abruptly tightens. Miraculously, he is able to turn his head to the side to finally rest his eyes on his partner. 

As Connor leans in, all Hank can think is, _his eyes are so bright_. And then they’re kissing. 

Connor’s lips are surprisingly soft. He parts them delicately, as if to avoid any sudden movements. Hank slips his tongue in, feeling a tingle run through his back. He feels arms wrap around his neck loosely, but before they can move any further, Hank pulls away. Wordlessly, he stands, and offers a hand to Connor. 

He leads them to his bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blease let me know what you think of this fic by leaving a comment or kudos!!! the next chapter will be posted in a week from today :))


	2. but i'll try, for you

Hank wakes in the dead of night. The blue dark that envelops the walls of his bedroom and the deep glow bathing the armchair beside his bed alert him to this fact. He almost believes that it is one of _those_ nights, where he will lay for hours, stringently alert of his own heartbeat and breath.

The sudden realization of a presence beside him sweeps this thought away with an abrupt shock to his system.

Connor... he’s still here. 

Hank rolls over, cautious to avoid awakening the android, though he knows full well that he is only in stasis. His breath immediately catches as he sees Connor. 

The forgotten lights, still flickering in the living room, have tiptoed their way past the door left ajar; they caress the outlines of Connor’s body. It almost seems as though Connor is glowing, an angelic being sent from the heavens. 

He’s the most beautiful person Hank has ever seen. 

Words tickle his tongue, murmuring for release. Hank brushes them aside. 

He can’t bear to look at him any longer. Turning back onto his side, facing away from Connor, his racing mind struggles to process the situation. _He’s still asleep. I could leave now, and avoid seeing his face as he realizes what he’s done, what I’ve done._

He almost starts to stand up, toes tingling as they prepare to register the pressure of the thin carpet beneath his feet. But before he can take a step, another image steps in front of the curtain in his mind. 

_Connor. Tears, slipping down his soft cheeks. Lips slightly parted. Eyes scanning the cold bed sheets beside him. Fingers curling into the blanket, clutching at them as though they were the only anchor tying him to this world. Hank’s name, sliding off of his tongue._

And he can’t do it. He can’t leave. 

The slight dip in the mattress embraces him again as he settles down against the pillow. There’s nothing left to do but wait. 

Even with the remnants of the last case still lingering in their muscles, they get swept away on another. This one seems simple; a robbery at a convenience store. The culprits had not only left behind camera evidence, but several distinct fingerprints on the countertop and display shelves.

The investigation passes by in what seems like several snapshots of time, all of which revolve around the glorious planet that is Connor. Connor, straightening his tie and running a hand through his hair before entering the store. Connor, speaking to the store owner, gesturing lightly at the cash register, the camera nestled in the corner, the displays. Connor, kneeling beside a shelf, swiping his fingers on the floor, and placing them directly in his mouth. Connor, clad in his reflective jacket, wearing a burning gaze; he is celestial in the bright fluorescent lights. He can hear Connor asking him questions, and he answers on autopilot. It feels as though he is twenty leagues deep underwater, bubbles filling his ears and mouth.

“Lieutenant, I think we have enough evidence to produce a warrant,” Connor says, rising from where he had been crouching. Hank turns towards him, eyes snapping back into focus, fingers tingling in his jacket pockets as they recall the previous night. 

God, he needs to get it together. 

“Yeah, let’s go. Thanks for your help,” he directs towards the shop owner, who nods her goodbye. 

Connor leads the way out of the shop and into the chaos of Detroit, leaving Hank to his thoughts. 

_Hands running over smooth, unblemished skin. Soft pants exhaled from his sweet, pert mouth. Clasping his jaw as they tangle their tongues together. The rhythmic pounding of the headboard into the wall._

“Lieutenant?” 

Hank snaps his head up, immediately regretting it as a sharp pain emerges at the back of his neck. He tears a hand away from the inside of a pocket to rub at it, flicking his eyes down to meet Connor’s. 

“Yeah, Connor?” 

“Are you feeling alright? We can head back home if you are unwell.”

Hank can feel himself splitting in two. One side of him wants desperately to return home with Connor, to catch his fond smirks over a light beer, and to chat about inane things. The other side of him, however, is throatily screeching for a bar; it dreams of drowning himself in drinking so that these thoughts will be swept away by vodka and scotch. 

He’s never been a particularly strong person. 

“I’m fine. I’ll drop you off at home. I have somewhere else to be.”

Connor tilts his head in confusion, but thankfully, doesn’t prod. 

They drive back in silence, Hank’s rock music filling up the empty space between them. Once they arrive at their house, Hank stares blankly ahead, waiting for the click, slam of the car door. It arrives, but a second too late, as if Connor had hesitated at the door, hesitated to leave Hank alone. Hank half wishes that Connor had hesitated, and then stayed. 

But then he remembers again, and he can’t forgive himself. 

The familiar route to the bar and the unfamiliar empty space to his right place place weights in Hank’s stomach, but he shakes them off. They don’t matter anymore. At least, not until the thick veil of alcohol he is planning to drape over them wears off. 

It’s always warm in Jimmy’s, full of rowdy laughter from the local construction men who have just gotten off of work. The clinking of glasses and rumble of conversation accompany him to his preferred seat at the bar. Raising a hand, he settles down onto the stool and orders his first drink of the evening. 

His first sip slashes through him, a punch of guilt in his gut. To mask his misery, he takes another sip, and remembers. 

He recalls the way Connor smiled gently at him as they lay on the mattress, Hank carefully bracketing the android between his arms. He recalls the astonishment he had felt as Connor pulled him closer. He recalls the low hum Connor had made as Hank pushed in slowly, both groaning as Hank bottomed out. He recalls how they laid next to each other in the afterglow, bathed in comfortable silence with their fingers tangled together. 

He downs the rest of his glass, immediately raising his hand for another. 

The rest of the evening passes in an alcohol tinged haze, images of Connor’s flushed cheeks and wonder-filled eyes flitting into his mind when he least expects them to. It’s not enough to just drink, he thinks, and continues to call for more, just one more, just one more. 

He slumps over the bar, sight fuzzy. His body feels sluggish, as if somebody had replaced all of his muscles with jelly. It’s time to go home, he thinks, he croaks out loud. The bartender raises her eyebrows at him, and dials a number on their phone.

Before Hank knows it, he’s in a shiny taxi, on his way home. The cool, sleek window is comforting against his warm skin, so he leans against it. Every bump in the road makes his cheek slide up and down the glass. 

It’s a challenge to walk up to his own front door, what with the floor cascading from side to side with every step. Miraculously, he is able to clasp both hands over the doorknob and yank the door open with little resistance. 

There’s a dark figure near the couch, the line of their back crooked in an agitated manner. Two hands raise, and Hank grins sloppily. “What are you doing?” he slurs, and attempts to take another step. He almost topples over, but the figure reacts quickly, both arms coming up to steady him. 

Oh. It’s Connor. 

His yellow LED is gleaming, stuttering in the darkness. Hank can’t see his face, but he can vaguely make out the words coming out of Connor’s mouth. Instead of listening, he raises a finger to Connor’s lips.

“Quiet. I wanna...” He feels a lurch in his stomach, the instantly recognizable taste of bile rising up his throat. With a painful gulp, he is able to resist the urge to vomit. “Wanna take you to bed, baby. Been thinkin’ about it all day.”

Connor’s LED spins red, just for a second before it returns to its lemon yellow. “No... no, Hank,” he whispers hoarsely. “You have to sleep this off. Shower first.”

Hank jerks away, almost losing his balance again. “I don’t wanna shower,” he groans, hands flailing slightly. 

He receives a sigh, and a reluctant hand pushing against his back in guidance. Hank smiles broadly, barely coherent enough to see the familiar path to his bedroom. 

Once they cross the doorway, Hank pushes at Connor’s shoulders, stumbling forward against his firm chest. Connor raises his hands to delicately push back. He maneuvers Hank into a sitting position onto the mattress, pulls his jacket off, and nudges Hank onto his pillow. It would be too much effort to move, Hank’s addled brain rationalizes. The last thing he feels before his eyelids slip down are his bedsheets being tenderly pulled up to his chin.

* * *

There’s an obnoxious noise coming from somewhere, the hum of his laptop, or maybe the whirring of a neighbor’s lawn mower. Whatever it is, Hank wants it desperately to stop. His bones are aching, along with his head, and, well, his entire body. Keeping his eyes futilely closed for a minute, he hopes that the sound will cease and allow Hank the coveted release of sleep. 

It doesn’t stop. 

Instead, Hank feels the warmth beside him. The sweet glide of synthetic skin against sheets, and the almost rhythmic breathing against his ear. The small puffs of air make Hank’s chest seize up with adoration, and then fear. 

Wait. Who... 

Oh. Oh, god. This can’t be happening. 

He’s frozen in time. His limbs refuse to move, and instead lay there, limp. Hank’s brain is in overdrive. What had he done the previous night? The last he remembers he was downing drinks as if his life depended on it. And somewhere along the way, he had ended up here.

Connor, in his bed. Connor, his friend, his partner, the one who had promised to be whatever Hank wanted to be. Connor.

The android’s name echoes in Hank’s mind; like an empty chamber, it reverberates and ricochets off the walls until he can’t think of anything else. 

It feels as though the whole day has passed before Hank is able to summon the will to turn on his side and reaffirm his worst fear. He braces an arm against the mattress, hauling himself around to see... 

The most heavenly being on the planet. 

Connor’s face, alight in the warm glow of the sun, happily rushing in through the window. His eyelashes flutter slightly as his lips allow a sigh to pass through them. His cheeks, awash with the slightest blush. His hand, once presumably against Hank’s back, now displaced onto the bed. His eyelids, still mercifully shut.

The only part of him that Hank can logically rationalize is the fact that he is not without clothes. But... that still could mean... 

Connor’s eyelashes give another light flutter, then lift to reveal eyes, of which are now staring directly at Hank. 

“Good morning,” Connor whispers, his hand coming up to press against Hank’s arm. Hank registers the pressure, but can’t bring himself to push it away. Instead, he stiffens, not wanting to nudge the hand away accidentally, but not entirely comfortable with the connection. 

Connor frowns, and relinquishes his touch. Hank misses the feeling immediately; his lips, slightly chapped, part. “Connor, I...” He can’t croak out the rest. 

“What’s wrong, Hank?”

God, he looks so eager. Too eager, too pure. 

“I’m so sorry. Connor, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.” He slides up into a sitting position, legs extended, and folds his arms across his chest. 

Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean, Hank?”

Hank gives a short, uncomfortable cough. “Didn’t we... last night, when I was out. Did anything happen... between us?”

The side of Connor’s mouth lifts. “No, nothing happened. I just helped you into bed.”

The relief, palpable, courses through Hank’s bones, muscles, tendons, organs. “Oh, thank fuck.”

A snort comes from the side, and Hank peers at Connor incredulously. The little shit! He was there, worrying his ass off, and Connor found this _funny_. 

“Sorry, Hank. It’s just... it hadn’t occurred to me that you would think that way. I swear, nothing happened. I just wanted to make sure you were stable while you were sleeping.”

Hank’s eyes lock onto Connor’s for a moment, and then detach. “It’s fine. Thanks.” The relief hits him like a pickup truck. His headache is suddenly discernable, coursing through his skull and making him grimace slightly. 

There’s a pause. Hank feels as though Connor’s about to say something, and then he does. 

“Hank, if you don’t mind me asking... what happened yesterday?”

Hank grunts. He considers walking out, but immediately scraps the idea. He can’t run away forever, as much the idea appeals to him. 

“I was thinking about... things. And then I went to have a drink.”

“What were you thinking about?”

Hank averts the android’s stare. 

“Us. Our future. How I feel about what we have.” 

“Did you have any revelations?”

There’s almost a lilt to his words, a grin permeating through the syllables. Hank looks up, expecting a cruel smile, and receives a soft tilt of the lips.

“Connor, I - I’m too much of a coward to love again.”

There it is. There’s the thought that’s been materializing, bouncing around in his head and jumbling his thoughts for the past few days. Now Connor knows how he really feels. He half expects the android to throw the sheets off and march out, disappointment flooding through each step. 

And then Connor speaks, and Hank is shattered. 

“Did you think you had a choice?” Hank unconsciously turns to him and sees Connor’s determined, steeled gaze. He is one notch short of burning with tenacious fury. “You can’t control who you love, Hank.”

Hank’s heart stills. Its beats, his life force, the rotation of the planet, _time itself_ , pauses to allow him to fully swallow this fact. Finally, the words that have been on the tip of his tongue, float off with a comfortable air of security. 

“I love _you_ , Connor.”

The android beams so widely that his face seems unable to contain the pure joy that is bubbling just beneath. “I love you, too.” 

He moves forward, as if to kiss Hank, but the other man leans backwards. “Ah... I’m not sure if you want to do that right now. Morning breath.”

Connor chokes out a laugh between tears that are threatening to cascade over his cheeks. “I can’t taste, Hank.”

Hank feels a flush run up his neck. “Come here, you asshole.”

They kiss, lips slotting together like a key into a lock. Connor’s hand goes up to press at Hank’s jaw, and he presses more insistently into Hank’s mouth. Hank relents, and allows Connor’s tongue to sneak in.

An eternity passes until they separate, Hank huffing deep breaths through smiling lips, and Connor smirking in that self-satisfactory way only he can pull off. 

  
“Let’s do it right this time, shall we?” Hank rumbles, twisting his lips higher in a devilish grin. He tackles Connor, pinning him down onto the mattress. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes and brings their lips together is Connor’s gorgeous, flushed face, eyes dripping with adoration, his entire being saying, _I love you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH BABEY!!!!!!! this is the longest thing i've ever written in like,,, four years sldfjdlkdjsslddj
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!!!!
> 
> please let me know your thoughts and criticisms by leaving a comment or a kudos!!!!! they really make me happy :'))

**Author's Note:**

> blease let me know what you think of this fic by leaving a comment or kudos!!! the next chapter will be posted in a week from today :))


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